


Disarray

by Arbryna



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 17:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bo gets home from talking to Lauren in 4x05, all she wants is a drink. What she gets is something more confusing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disarray

_Someday I'm gonna find it_  
 _Wish I knew what I was looking for_  
~ Lifehouse, Disarray

* * *

 

Bo isn't surprised.

It feels like it, at first. The realization crashes into her chest and it feels like all of her ribs shatter from the force of it. But as she's standing there, just ten feet but a million miles away from the woman she loves—loved?— _loves_ , as it all sinks in, she knows that this didn't just come out of nowhere.

All day she's tried to ignore it. Told herself that the urgent, desperate ache in her chest is nothing more than a need to make up for lost time. So much time, so many lost memories. She doesn't know what Lauren has been through this past month—how can she, when she doesn't know what she's been through herself?

Whatever's happened, Lauren is changed for it. The lines in her face are a little deeper, the look in her eyes a little more guarded, a little more haunted. For all that, though, she seems somehow better off. Her shoulders sag less, her gait is more confident. As much as Bo wants to deny it, wants to drag Lauren home and keep her there until she wakes up from Evony's deceitful illusion of freedom, Lauren seems happier. More at peace.

Maybe Lauren was meant to be Dark—as much as a human can be, at least. Maybe it's Lauren's destiny, but it's _not_ Bo's. She's fought too long and too hard for her own freedom to let herself be trapped by some momentary lapse of reason that she can't even remember. She's going to find a way out of this, if it's the last thing she ever does.

But where does that leave her and Lauren? She can't be Dark, won't pledge fealty to someone—especially someone as vile as Evony—for the sake of a relationship that's never been able to work for very long anyway.

She can admit that now, while the ache in her chest seeps into her blood and weighs her body down as she leans against the wall outside of Evony's office. She loves Lauren—has always loved her, maybe since the first time they met, but they've never had the time they needed to figure out how to make it work. Maybe they never will. It's not like either of their lives are likely to suddenly become less complicated.

It's not that she's giving up. Bo doesn't _do_ that. There has to be a way—a way out of this Dark pledge, a way to convince Lauren that this isn't where she belongs.

It's just that right now, everything hurts too much to look for it.

***

Talking to Trick helps—or maybe it's the whisky. When she stumbles into the clubhouse later, Bo is no closer to answers to any of the questions screaming in her head, but she's got a nice buzz going on that at least dulls the sound of them.

A buzz that's fading all too fast. She drops her purse on the cluttered kitchen island. There's a half-full bottle of wine that was probably opened a week ago, along with various dirty dishes and mostly-empty pizza boxes. She considers the wine for a moment, but even if it were fresh it's not what she needs right now.

Thankfully, Tamsin doesn't seem to have remembered all of the hiding places she raided not so very long ago. A quick survey finds a bottle of vodka tucked into a cupboard, and after wiping the dust out of a shot glass, she's all set. Heavy drinking may not be the healthiest way to deal with her problems, but it's worked for her so far.

Huh. Maybe she's more like Tamsin than she'd like to admit.

There's a soft rustle somewhere in the vicinity of the stairs, as if just thinking the name has made Tamsin appear. Except it's not Tamsin, not the one Bo knows. Lil T is tucked half-behind the door frame, peering up through messy blonde hair. The look on her face is so open and vulnerable and unsure that Tamsin—the real Tamsin, or the old one, or whatever the right term is—would probably feel the need to kill anyone who managed to catch sight of it.

"Can't sleep?" Bo asks, filling her shot glass with clear liquid.

Tamsin shrugs, shifts restlessly. "Thirsty."

Bo can't help but laugh—a dry, sardonic thing. "Should I make you up a glass of warm vodka?"

She lifts the glass to her lips, tosses back the bitter alcohol. Her mouth twists in a grimace; shouldn't Kenzi have some, like, Russian pride or something? You'd think she'd stock better vodka than this.

When she's recovered a bit, Bo realizes that Tamsin never replied. Tamsin is, in fact, staring hard at the floor, her features twisted in confusion—like she knows she should be offended, or hurt, but she doesn't understand why.

"Sorry," Bo says with a wince. "I keep forgetting that you don't remember. It's harder now, when you're so…" she trails off, trying to put words to it.

The apology seems to only have made things worse. Tamsin pulls her arms around herself, leans against the inside of the door frame. "You can say it. I'm a monster."

"So much like _her_." Bo sets down the shot glass, steps toward Tamsin. "You look exactly like the Tamsin I knew. It's easy to forget that you're not her anymore."

"I will be again," Tamsin points out glumly. She slips past Bo and leans against the back of the couch. "I'm gonna remember, all that horrible stuff I did. All the people I hurt…killed."

"Hey." Bo frowns. Tamsin doesn't look up when Bo settles against the couch next to her, but she does tense when Bo's arm settles around her shoulders. "Whatever Massimo told you, don't believe a word of it. He was just trying to hurt you."

Tamsin hesitates. "So…I didn't try to kill you?" Her eyes drag up to meet Bo's, filled with a fragile sort of hope.

Bo doesn't know what to say. It's more complicated than that, so much more, but how can she explain it to Tamsin when she's still not sure she understands any of it herself?

Silence is enough of an answer for Tamsin, who chuckles bitterly. "He was right. I am a monster."

"No, Tamsin, listen to me." Bo moves to trap Tamsin between her and the couch. Tamsin's face is soft and warm under her hands, her eyes wet with the promise of tears. "Okay, so you tried to kill me. The important thing is that you couldn't. Not because I stopped you, but because you chose not to. You are _not_ a monster."

The passion in Bo's voice lingers in the air, charges it—or maybe that's just the tension that's always been between them, still present even if Tamsin doesn't remember it. Tamsin's eyes drop to Bo's lips, and before either of them moves Bo knows what's about to happen.

Tamsin leans forward, presses her lips to Bo's. It's sweet, tentative, a little bit awkward. She lingers there, still and trembling all at once, until hunger spikes in Bo's chest and she presses back, tangling her fingers in thick blonde hair.

This hunger isn't new, but ever since she got back from that nightmare train it's been sharper and stronger than it ever was before. Bo remembers the taste of Tamsin's chi, how it popped and sparked on her tongue and revitalized her better than any energy drink ever could. How much of that was Massimo's injections, she wonders, and how much was just Tamsin herself? Her blood is singing with the desire to find out.

A startled whimper catches in Tamsin's throat as Bo's knee wedges between her legs. Her hands shake as they find Bo's hips, her back; her hips rock against Bo's leg in a stilted, irregular rhythm. She tenses as Bo's tongue slides between her lips, in surprise or maybe because of the lingering taste of vodka, but she relaxes again soon enough, making up for her inexperience with raw enthusiasm.

She could take Tamsin right here, Bo thinks. Kenzi's upstairs, probably asleep by now—they wouldn't be interrupted. She has to admit she's thought about it more than once—how all that animosity between them might translate between the sheets, or against the couch as the case may be.

Of course, that was all before. Tamsin won't fight back against her now, won't protest or sling barbed insults at her even as she writhes under Bo's touch. Something primal flares in Bo's chest at the thought of such a willing victim. She drags her lips down the line of Tamsin's jaw, teases with teeth and tongue at the soft skin of Tamsin's throat.

Tamsin squirms, arches into the hand that's dropped to her breast. Her hands drift up Bo's back, tangle in dark hair. Her breath is coming in short little pants, her pulse pounding against Bo's lips. It all combines to push Bo closer to the edge, to losing control.

Then Tamsin's knees buckle as Bo's fingers find her nipple, and instead of tugging on Bo's hair, her hands fly down to brace against Bo's shoulders. Bo grabs onto Tamsin's hips, and together they manage to keep Tamsin from falling on her ass.

"Sorry," Tamsin giggles, her cheeks flushed deep red. When Bo meets her gaze, Tamsin gasps. She brushes soft fingertips over Bo's brow. "Your eyes…they're blue."

It's like being doused in ice water. The innocence of it, the wonder in Tamsin's eyes so similar to that day in her bathtub…horror rises in Bo's throat at what she was about to do. She was seconds away from seducing a _child_ , for all intents and purposes. A bitter taste fills her mouth—it was probably Tamsin's first kiss, too.

Bo backs away, putting some distance between them. She shakes her head. "I can't do this. I _shouldn't_ do this."

"But…" Tamsin falters, wrapping her arms around herself again. She peers up, and the hope that glitters in barely-guarded eyes makes something twist in Bo's chest. "But you want to?"

"I'm a succubus," Bo replies, raising an eyebrow. "I always want to. And you don't exactly look like a kid anymore."

Her eyes drift over Tamsin's body, and Bo feels her hunger spike again. She hates it. Maybe _she's_ the monster. She turns away, both ashamed and afraid that if she keeps looking she won't be able to stop herself again.

"I love you," Tamsin blurts, freezing Bo where she stands.

"That was just my power," Bo explains without turning around. She tries to ignore the way her heart pounds in her chest, the way Tamsin's words throw her off-balance. "It was the only way I could calm you down."

Silence follows, broken only by the soft whisper of bare feet on wood floor. Tamsin stops close enough to Bo's back that Bo can feel the desire that still pulses in Tamsin's aura.

"No, I...I remember loving you," Tamsin admits in a small voice. A nervous chuckle catches in her throat, and she coughs a little to clear it. "It's the only thing I _can_ remember."

Bo whirls around, wide eyes taking in the crooked, nervous half-smile on Tamsin's lips. For a moment she's speechless as the full meaning of Tamsin's words sinks in; it's not a complete surprise, but it's not something she ever thought she'd hear from Tamsin herself.

Of course, if Tamsin were _herself_ , it would never have been said—at least not without the help of copious amounts of alcohol. It just serves to drive home the fact that she's _not_ herself.

"Which is why I can't do this," Bo finally says. "It wouldn't be right."

Tamsin squints a little, puzzling out the meaning of Bo's words. "So, it's because I don't have my memories?"

Her tone is innocent, but there's something devious in the cock of her head, in the sparkle of blue-green eyes. She may not have her memories, but she's still Tamsin. There's some kind of plot brewing in Tamsin's mind, but Bo is too tipsy and far too tired to try to figure it out right now.

Instead, Bo sighs. "Let's get you some water and get you back to bed," she says, reaching out to squeeze Tamsin's shoulder. She keeps her touch carefully on top of Tamsin's shirt, not willing to tempt fate by brushing her fingers over bare skin. "Sound good?"

Tamsin's smile widens as she meets Bo's gaze, and all over again she's the naive girl Bo has barely gotten to know yet. Bo can't help but smile back.

***

Upstairs, Kenzi snores softly in her bed, with Bruce curled up chivalrously on the floor. Bo watches as Tamsin pads over to her own newly-scavenged bed. When she's more or less settled, Bo hands her the glass of water. Tamsin takes a healthy gulp before setting it down on the floor by her bed.

Bo pulls the blanket up over Tamsin's shoulders, tucking her in like she would a child. Tamsin reacts like one too, clutching the edge of it under her chin with one hand while the other curls up around her pillow. It's so damn confusing, how Tamsin can give her the sleepy smile of a little kid when her lips are still swollen from kissing Bo.

With a shake of her head, Bo pushes the thought away. She reaches up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Tamsin's ear, leans in to press a chaste kiss to her forehead. "Sleep tight, Lil T."

"G'night," Tamsin says, her eyes half-closed already.

Before Bo can make it to the door, she's stopped by Tamsin's voice calling her name. She turns back. Tamsin's eyes are wide open again, and fixed intently on Bo.

"I'll try to remember," Tamsin says, earnest and resolute. "For you."

It sounds like a promise, a solemn oath; for an instant Bo gets the image of Tamsin in gleaming silver armor, like a knight in a fairy tale. She shakes her head, smiling at the absurdity of it. "Don't worry about that. Just get some sleep."

Tamsin obediently shuts her eyes, a smile lingering on her lips. It tugs at something in Bo's chest, something that has nothing to do with her succubus nature. The feeling lingers as she closes the door behind her.

Back in her own bedroom, Bo sinks down onto the edge of her bed. She takes a deep breath, and it feels like the first one she's had all day. All week. Hell, ever since she got back from wherever she was. There's precious little time or room to breathe these days. She never expected a quiet life, but it seems like fate really has it in for her lately.

And now, on top of everything else—on top of the Una Mens and Rainer and this dark bullshit and Lauren—on top of all that, there's this.

Tamsin loves her. Loved her before she ever used her power on her, before she was reborn, if Tamsin's memory is to be trusted. She doesn't know what to do with that, doesn't know when Tamsin will remember, or if she will; still doesn't know how Tamsin and the Wanderer are connected, or if it has anything to do with her abduction.

Too many questions, not enough answers. Story of Bo's life. Now there's this, an answer that sparks a million more questions, and she doesn't know where to start—not to mention whatever hare-brained scheme that's been hatched in Tamsin's head. The last thing she needs is for Tamsin to go off and try to get herself killed, especially when she'd be doing it _for_ Bo.

At the same time, it'd be really nice if Tamsin could remember. For all Bo knows, Tamsin could have all of the answers she needs locked away in her subconscious. And as much as Bo is fond of this new, reborn Tamsin, she has to admit she kind of misses the old one—the one who bickered with her on an almost daily basis, who pushed all Bo's buttons just because she could.

The one who kissed her in Brazenwood, who climbed into her bathtub and told her how perfect she was. The one who couldn't kill her, even when she knew it would mean her own death.

Bo drops back onto the bed, sighing. Great—because her love life needed to be _more_ complicated.


End file.
